


coffee tinted daydreams

by ioascc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Lifting Kink, M/M, Single Parent Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc
Summary: Every Sunday morning, Dean Winchester does his best to flirt with his favorite customer until one morning that customer is running very late.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 209
Collections: Destiel Writers & Readers





	coffee tinted daydreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAngelInDeansButt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelInDeansButt/gifts).



> Happy Christmas, dear! You loved parent Dean or Cas, coffee shop AUs, and lifting kinks. Angel, I hope you like what’s in your stocking this year. ;)
> 
> Thank you to my betas, Feathers & abnormal_ace. ❤️

_He’s running late._

Dean thinks anxiously as he watches the teenage boy sit awkwardly at the booth fiddling with his phone. The teenage boy, who he knows is Jack only because Dean’s overhead the name more than a few times, picks up his phone and looks at it over and over. Dean watches the young man’s anxiety grow before his eyes. Dean knows from his not-creepy-at-all observations that the Dad, he has always assumed the gorgeous man is Jack’s father, is always prompt. Rain, snow, sleet, hail… Novak is always on time.

Every Sunday morning for the past year, the dark-haired man named “Novak” comes into his coffee shop, The Jittery Impala, at eight. Every Sunday morning, Dean writes the name _Novak_ on his order of black coffee and a hot chocolate. Novak will only drink it black, no cream, no sugar, and Dean doesn’t even bother offering any of those fancy syrups. For the past year, Dean has tried to sell (i.e., flirt) him the house specials every time Novak comes in. By eight-thirty, Jack usually slides enthusiastically into the booth opposite of Novak. Sometimes they order breakfast sandwiches, but most of the time they order two blueberry muffins.

The fact that it is nine-thirty and there is no sign of Novak is starting to worry Dean. He motions for Jo to switch with him and take over the register, makes a quick hot chocolate and a breakfast sandwich for Jack, and brings it over to the anxious teen.

“Hey, you ok?” Dean asks, placing the hot chocolate and sandwich down in front of Jack and sliding opposite of him.

“Hello, yes, I think. I am waiting for my Dad,” Jack replies, a little owlishly. He takes a sip of the chocolate, a small smile dancing on his lips though his eyes remain big and anxious. He takes large bites of the sandwich, humming while he eats.

“I figured, you’ve been coming here a while,” Dean grunts, awkwardly.

“Oh yes, this coffee shop was the halfway point between my Mom’s work and Dad’s house. I used to live with her but I stay with Dad now. I like it better. He’s not as busy as my Mom and he spends more time with me,” Jack confesses, his words earnest.

“That’s nice, kid,” Dean replies, secretly feeling greedy for more information. He’s wanted to know Novak’s deal for the last year. It has nothing to do with his humongous crush. _Nope, not at all._

“Yeah, we just come here now because Dad thinks the barista is really cute,” Jack admits taking a big sip of his drink with a smile.

Hope flares in Dean’s chest, but he ignores it… there is no way Jack is talking about him… he’s probably talking about Jo. His petite blonde-haired friend/employee is gorgeous and she’s the usual Sunday morning barista along with him. He’s usually making the coffees and sandwiches instead of manning the register.

“Any thoughts as to why he’s running late?” Dean asks, organizing the sugar packets in the caddy on the table.

“He had to work last night, he’s an OBGYN, and it was his shift at the hospital… but, he’s never usually this late,” Jack says, checking his phone again.

_The man delivers babies!_ Dean laments, groaning inwardly. Could the guy get any more perfect? With his windswept hair, buff body, and those damn cheekbones? Not to mention eyes that reminded Dean of the shallow waters of tropical places he’ll never get to see. He always smelled good too, fresh like Christmas pine. Dean can’t help but be jealous of Jo, _lucky bitch,_ to catch Novak’s fancy.

“Hasn’t texted me either,” Jack mentions, wiping his mouth and letting out a big sigh.

“I hope he shows up soon,” Dean says, feeling emotionally constipated and awkward. He’s been harboring this ridiculous crush and it’s seriously gotten out of control. Everyone in his extended family knows about his Sunday morning flirting sessions. Sam delights in tormenting him all the time about it, having once seen Dean trying to flirt shamelessly with Novak. It was pathetic, Dean had crashed and burned badly… but that didn’t stop a guy from trying or wishing. Every Sunday, he signs himself up for more flirting failures.

Really, the whole situation has gotten out of hand. Dean’s daydreams have devolved from sex olympics to doing the weirdest most mundane things with Novak, activities like grocery shopping and sitting in the park eating sub sandwiches. Of all things… _sub sandwiches_. In his daydreams, he imagines Novak likes extra pickles on his sandwiches and when he takes a bite, one escapes and Dean is able to swipe it from the paper wrapping and pop it in his mouth. They both smile at each other and Novak kisses him, lips tasting like pickles and sub dressing.

Dream Novak folds his towels _just right_ and organizes his linen closet that is a complete mess. Dream Novak likes to shower together and he shampoos Dean’s hair methodically. Dream Novak kisses the nape of his neck with coffee breath, hugging him from behind, while Dean makes breakfast for Jack.

Dean admits that he’s lost his mind to this fantasy but he just can’t stop himself. He’s been celibate for a _long_ time. He hasn’t been on a date in years. Dean’s a man in his mid-forties. He’s never been married and he’s got this weird codependent relationship going on with his grown-ass brother. Dean has tumbled into the weird territory of being the “weird guy who has been single forever so what is really wrong with him?” Dean can answer that easily…the other day he got caught in the rain and his traitorous dumpster fire thought, _that’s right… all over my face, baby._ Dean had snapped out of it quickly… but the damage was done. He had signed up for a dating app then and there standing in the pouring rain.

Quickly, he realized that being a business owner really does take up the majority of his time, he keeps coffee shop hours, and there simply isn’t energy or time to weed through men and women to find one to really date. Too many _psychrolutes marcidus (_ blobfish for people who don’t watch obscene amounts of ocean documentaries like Dean) in the dating sea. Sundays with Novak are what keeps him going at this point. Every interaction with Novak is tinged with out of this world chemistry… but Dean isn’t 100% sure that the guy is actually interested. And Dean would rather not get punched in the face for directly asking another dude out.

“You’ve been working here a long time, Dean,” Jack comments as he polishes off his sandwich with gusto interrupting Dean’s internal musing. Kids got an appetite, much like Dean himself.

“Own the place,” Dean replies, “My old man, this was his garage. When he passed, I gutted it and converted the building into a coffee shop and bakery.”

“That explains the coffee and car theme. It’s unique,” replies Jack, his big doll eyes trained on Dean. 

“Thank you.”

“You are a successful business owner. I know that the black car out there is yours, so you have a method of reliable transportation. Do you also own a home?”

Dean thinks the conversation has taken a strange turn, but he’ll humor the boy, “I do. I live in the Historic District. It was my family home.”

“Those houses are lovely, some are rather large. You don’t wear a wedding ring. Do you have children? A wife?” Jack asks, seeming innocently delighted. Dean feels on the spot, but he doesn’t want to leave the poor kid to sit there in a pool of anxiety. Happy to take one for the team, Dean will answer this kid’s questions just to distract him.

“Uh, no. No kids, no wife.”

“How would you describe your sexual orientation?”

“Whoah, buddy! That’s pretty intrusive of you. What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?” Dean barks, wanting to clutch his chest like an affronted maiden. He doesn’t though, Jack is just a teenager. An overly curious teenager.

“I’m doing reconnaissance,” Jack chirps, goofy smile and all, “So how would you describe your sexual orientation? I'm an agender ace. Dad is pan, though he hasn’t dated in a while.”

Dean can’t stop his jaw from dropping, the nerve of this kid… but he finds himself answering, reluctantly mumbling out his answer, “I’m bi.”

Jack hums, folding his hands together and resting them on the table around his hot chocolate. He looks at Dean, obviously gathering his thoughts. They have a staring contest before Jack asks him another intrusive question, “Would you be interested in dating my Dad? He’s a fairly attractive man. He’s a homeowner, has a vehicle, and is successfully employed.”

Dean bursts out in laughter, unable to contain himself with the ridiculousness of this situation, “What’s with those weird requirements?”

“Dad laments that he usually attracts less savory prospects. I researched what would make a good partner,” Jack admits bashfully.

“Dating is more than having requirements, it’s about chemistry,” Dean teaches, rubbing his jaw and resting his head in his chin. He’s amused, he probably would have talked to this kid way earlier than today if he knew he was going to be so unintentionally funny.

“I understand that, I guess,” Jack says slowly, deep in thought. Dean raps the table, getting up to leave but Jack’s honest face stops him in his tracts. “My Dad… I overheard him say that you are the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. I think we still come here because he’d miss seeing you.”

“Jack Kline Novak,” a deep growly voice commands behind Dean. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck, Dean turns slowly to see Novak standing there. Dressed in scrubs, perfectly disheveled, his face heated with embarrassment.

“I apologize,” Novak grinds out, eyes heatedly directed towards Jack.

Dean’s lizard brain lights up like it’s freaking Christmas… which strangely is just around the corner. He has it bad. Seeing Novak in his scrubs, seeing Novak all riled up and blushing, sporting two-day stubble, instantly makes arousal sing through Dean’s blood. He has to shift awkwardly to hide the more physical side of his attraction. His daydreams are definitely going to shift dramatically from PG picnics and linen closet organization to super sexy doctor. _Hello, Dr. Sexy._

An uncomfortable awkward chuckle escapes Dean, “No worries. Let me get you a coffee. Glad you made it.”

Dean is a grown man, but he darts around the counter before he witnesses Novak rip Jack a new one. Strangely, from what he can see from his body language hiding behind the espresso machine, Novak does no such thing. He lets out a big sigh and kisses the top of Jack’s head. Dean melts a little more. From the side of his eyes, Dean watches Novak pay Jo for the drinks and sandwich. He also leaves a generous tip in the tip jar.

He pours Novak a large coffee, hesitating only slightly when he slides the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Feeling spontaneous and empowered by Jack’s invasive conversation, Dean quickly grabs a marker and scribbles his number on the cardboard. He feels like a ditchable prom date, but damnit… a full year of flirting with this man has gotten him nowhere. It’s time to go full-on offense. He’s pretty sure that Novak won’t deck him in the face anymore.

“Thank you for keeping Jack company,” Novak sighs, taking the coffee from him and taking a generous sip. “My clinic partner was late arriving this morning and I had to stay for a delivery,” Novak explains, savoring his coffee. He closes his eyes, wetting his lips, before he levels his intense gaze on Dean.

“No problem, it was an educational discussion,” Dean teases, earning a blush from the doctor.

“I’m sure it was,” he mumbles but looking Dean steadily on, “I… I caught the tail end of that. I apologize if Jack’s statement made you uncomfortable.”

Dean can only stare dumbly at him, “I’ve been flirting with you.”

“I didn’t want to assume your friendliness was flirting,” Novak admits, a shy smile lighting up his face.

Clearing his throat, Dean quickly comes around the corner to stretch his hand out for Novak to shake. Nervously, he rambles out, “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester. Owner here of The Jittery Mule. I’ve been flirting with you every Sunday for the past year. My number is also on your coffee cup.”

“Castiel Novak, I’ve been hoping you’ve been flirting with me but… frankly, my “people skills” are “rusty” and my friends like to tell me I’m absolutely hopeless,” Castiel laughs, shaking his hand, and using air quotes and all.

“You should call me,” Dean says pointing to the coffee cup. Dean’s numbers peeking out between Castiel’s long fingers. Glancing at the cup, Castiel smiles at the number. His eyes crinkling and gums showing. He pulls his cell immediately out of his scrub pocket and Dean watches him as he dials. Dean’s phone buzzes in his jean pocket, he pulls it out and notices a local number.

“Last four, 7899 you?”

“Yes.”

Grinning, Dean texts Castiel, _Free Tuesday night?_ Castiel’s phone pings and he’s quick to answer yes. Dean tucks his phone away, glancing up at the gorgeous man in front of him. His neritic colored eyes almost lighting up from the smile within. The man is freaking gorgeous and Dean feels like he could get lost in those eyes easily.

“Dinner?” Castiel asks, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup breaking the stare fest.

“That would be awesome,” Dean answers, clearing his throat, “I can pick you up?”

“Yes, I’ll text you my address.”

“It’s a date,” Dean grins as Castiel walks away with Jack, looking forward to Tuesday night.

* * *

Dean picks Castiel up promptly at five o’clock, neither one of the men ascribes to the late-night date eating at eight o’clock crap. Dean’s hands are sweating and he wipes them hastily on his nicest jeans. He’s dressed casually, they had agreed on casual tonight and are going to a local farm to table eatery. Dean goes to knock on the door but it jerks open, a smiling Jack awkwardly standing in the middle of the doorway. Castiel is hopping around in the background, trying to get his heel into his left boot. The man stops, frozen with half of his boot on his foot and a frustrated look on his face.

“Your car is very loud, I could hear it coming from up the street,” Jack comments cheerfully while Castiel looks like he could kill Jack with his eyes.

“Classic car, big engine,” Dean simply states, shrugging and leaning against the door frame, “Take your time, Cas.”

“I told him to not open the door until you knocked,” Castiel sighs, shoving his foot into his boot looking at his son heatedly. Dean tries to hide the smile behind his hand, but fails, it makes Cas’ lips twinge with a quick grin though.

That is until Jack opens up his big mouth again. “Claire is going to pick me up and we are going to hang out at Uncle Jimmy’s. Staying the night so you don’t need to worry about me when you come home,” Jack helpfully comments towards his father.

Castiel blinks slowly at his son, standing up…boot laces all but forgotten. Dean can’t stop himself from snickering under his breath at this statement. He usually laughs when he’s uncomfortable, makes funerals real fuckin’ awkward.

“ _Jack.”_

“What?” Jack cries out indignantly, “You’ve been talking about Dean and your sexual attraction to him for the past year. I was just letting you know that the house will be empty if you wished to bring Dean home.”

“Jack, thank you… but that’s enough,” Castiel sighs and looks heavenward as if he’s praying for something to come down and smite him where he stands. Dean can relate, he’s asked for a deities’ intervention plenty of times in awkward situations.

Dean waits in awkward silence while Castiel kneels and ties up his boots. The other man is hesitant to look at Dean, but Dean gets his fill of Castiel Novak. He looks amazing, he always does… but tonight he’s like sex personified. Wearing a henley shirt and dark jeans which he notes are being stretched thin by his strong thighs and hips. Dean’s mouth practically waters at the sight of the wispy chest hairs that curl up from the small unbuttoned opening of the henley.

“Let’s get going,” Dean stutters out when Cas finishes putting on his coat, feeling a little bit more than nervous. He opens Cas’s door like a gentleman and makes sure he’s quick to turn the car back on. Cas looks around impressed and Dean can’t help to preen, he’s definitely grateful there hasn’t been any snow yet so he doesn’t have to put up his Baby and pull out his winter rat.

“Beautiful car,” Cas comments, big hands running over the leather seats.

“Thank you, she was my Dad’s but he gifted her to me for my eighteenth birthday. Been in a few wrecks, but I keep fixing her up and she keeps runnin’. Once the snow hits though, I’ve got a backup car,” Dean rambles, hands running over the steering wheel.

“I drove a 1978 Lincoln continental when I was eighteen, saved all my money for it too. That’s the car that got me through college and med school,” Castiel says quietly, his words barely audible over the roar of the engine, “I liked it, but it definitely wasn’t as nice as this.”

“Thank you,” Dean says, feeling a smidge shy at the praise of his craftsmanship. They chat quietly, about cars and car maintenance until they reach the restaurant. Before Dean exits the car though, he turns to Cas and commits to saying what has been burning on the tip of his tongue before he chickens out, “By the way, you look really nice.”

Castiel’s eyes crinkle with a close-lipped smile, “Thank you, Dean, you of course are as handsome as ever.”

Pleased that his compliment was well received and not awkward in execution, Dean kills the engine and hops out to open Castiel’s door. He’s going to do his best to make this date as smooth as possible. Despite the early hour, the restaurant is packed. It’s a favorite amongst the locals, an old house renovated into a restaurant. They get seated at a small table, tucked out of the way and private.

They talk about work, they talk about Jack, Castiel’s twin Jimmy and his family, and Dean talks about Sam and his second wife Eileen.

“You never married young, then?” Castiel asks innocently, fiddling with the roll of silverware. They haven’t been served their drinks or waited on yet, but Dean is a patient man and he won’t be the first to complain about their lack of service. They have already picked out what they wanted, Dean secretly pleased that Castiel actually does like extra pickles.

“Uh no, I was a bit busy taking care of Sammy,” Dean comments, “His first wife, Jessica, passed in an accident and I… I had to keep him from going off the rails. Between that and getting the shop up and running, I really didn’t have time for romance.”

“I’m sorry to hear about Sam,” Castiel sympathizes, holding Dean’s gaze with the warmth of understanding and not a hint of pity. Usually, people look at him with pity when he talks about Sammy’s messed up past life, Castiel’s the first person that just understands and accepts. Worrying his bottom lip in-between his teeth Castiel seems hesitant to share his next thought, “I married young, wrongly so and we drifted apart. Kelly wanted a career in politics, it led her straight to Washington.”

“Really?” Dean questions, thinking Castiel is a perfect catch and his ex-wife is an idiot for leaving him behind.

“We had similar dreams early on in our marriage, she wanted to be a mother and I wanted a family. But as Jake became a teenager… her dreams morphed into something more than just motherhood. We parted amicably, we were better friends than lovers anyways,” Castiel says with a sad soft smile, “But, uh, you don’t want to hear any more tales of woe. It’s not what first dates are supposed to be about.”

“I just want to know you, man, first date or not,” Dean earnestly says, but tries to shrug nonchalantly. Eventually, he finally catches the eye of their waitress.

“Oh gosh! I didn’t know you two were over here. I’m so sorry for your wait! What can I get you fellas to drink?”

They’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes without being served, but Dean isn’t going to complain… he’s finally on a date with _Novak_. They place their food and drink orders, Castiel is all gentle smiles towards the harried young waitress and Dean follows in his example. It definitely wasn’t her fault that the hostess sat them and forgot to tell the waitress.

“I waited tables in college,” Castiel says laughing, “I was terrible. Made no money and had to quit. Worked at a Gas n’ Sip after that.”

“I can believe that,” Dean laughs finally sipping on his beer, “Sammy witnessed one of my flirting attempts with you and he’s never let it down.”

“Oh god, I am so sorry. I really am dense when it comes to flirting,” explains Castiel with a chuckle.

“No harm, we are finally here. Squeaky wheel gets the grease in the end,” Dean smiles, his comment earns him a beautiful smile.

Their date goes so smoothly, even if Dean’s food comes out cold, he’s too enraptured by Cas’ eyes to really notice anything else. With a devilish wink, Castiel even steals a pickle that escaped his BBQ sandwich and Dean practically combusts with emotions.

Castiel Novak is better in reality than any dream Dean’s coffee tinted daydreams could ever concoct.

They eat, they talk, and Dean drives Castiel home. He even walks Castiel to the door, their breath misting in the cold winter air. Castiel only stills for a minute at his door, “Come in, have a drink with me.”

Dean doesn’t need to be asked again, his eyes eating up Castiel’s long form as the man sheds his winter coat, toes off his boots, and then pours them both generous amounts of whiskey. Dean follows, settling down into the couch with his glass while Castiel gets a fire started in the large fireplace opposite the couch. Castiel makes no pretenses and sits close to Dean with his own glass. They sit in companionable silence, sipping whiskey and watching the fire burn.

“I enjoyed tonight,” Castiel comments over the crackle of the fireplace and popping of the wood. Castiel’s arm is stretched over the back of the couch, but his hand comes to play with the short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck. Leaning into the delicious touch, Dean revels in the feeling of the calluses and strength of Castiel’s fingers.

“I did too, I’m glad Jack said something,” Dean replies, his voice deep from misuse.

“For once, his meddling actually worked out,” Castiel laughs, his thumb brushing up against Dean’s jaw.

“It did.”

Swallowing the rest of his drink, Castiel places the glass on the coffee table with a loud thunk, never letting go of Dean. Dean downs the rest of his, not that there is a lot. The warmth of the fire and buzz of the alcohol are making him loose and languid. Not to mention the burning arousal that has been ratcheting up helped by Cas’s wandering hands.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s lips, “I would like for you to stay the night…Can you?”

“Yes,” a breathy reply tumbles from Dean’s lips as Castiel kisses him deeply. Teeth nip at Dean’s lips, Castiel’s tongue is quick and heady, and the lips that Dean has only dreamed about are divine. Castiel kisses like he’s a man on a mission to undo Dean at the seams.

And he does, Dean pulls and pushes at Castiel’s body. He feels like he’s going to burst from the lust that is building up between them. His hands are eager and hungry to touch the other man.

“Your lips,” Cas pants pulling away from Dean and carding his fingers through his short-cropped hair and pulling Dean’s head backwards, “Are divine.”

Castiel tugs on Dean’s hair, eliciting a moan. “I was just thinking the same thing about yours,” Dean whispers, feeling breathless and wanting. They both laugh as Castiel’s hands wander down the muscles of Dean’s arms and abdomen.

“Are you clean?” Castiel asks, his hands migrating down to Dean’s waistband of his jeans.

“Yes, I got tested after my last partner,” Dean answers, not bothering to mention it was a billion fuckin’ years ago.

“Thank fuck, me too,” growls Castiel, smashing their lips back together in a wanton display. He manhandles Dean, picking him up and then laying him down back on the couch. Dean cannot believe his luck, a partner who can shift his 6’ 2” body like it weighs nothing is every fantasy Dean has ever had. Castiel removes Dean’s clothes, lifting and pulling Dean around like an eager doll. Dean’s cock twitches at every rough move, the head leaving a smear of precome in his boxers. Castiel makes quick work of his own clothing, right down to his own boxer briefs.

Miles of golden muscle are exposed, making Dean’s mouth go dry. Castiel cants his hips over Dean’s, brushing their erections together. Castiel settles between Dean’s legs, their hips moving together in a torturously delicious grind. A low keen escapes Dean and he grasps at Cas’s hips to keep him closer, keep him moving.

“What do you want to do?” Dean asks before he gets too lost in the moment, he’s always been a submissive partner, but he definitely wants to be on the same page so there aren’t any surprises.

“I’d like to blow you,” Cas replies with another brush of his cock against Dean’s that makes him see stars, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say I don’t think either one of us really cleaned for penetration tonight.”

Dean blushes brilliantly and stills Castiel’s movements, giving away that he did in fact prep himself before his date tonight. It’s like what the Coast Guard says, _semper paratus_.

“Well,” Cas says with a click of his tongue and shit-eating grin. Dean coughs and smiles, shrugging his shoulders and smiling adorably. “Let’s go to the bed,” Castiel commands, hauling Dean up with an impressive amount of strength and wrapping Dean’s legs around his waist. Castiel’s bedroom is right off the living and he makes quick work of tossing Dean onto the bed.

_“Fuck.”_

Dean’s body lights up, screaming with arousal from Cas’s display of strength. It’s what he likes about being with men, the heavy weight against his chest and a partner with the strength to push him around. Castiel raises a cocky brow when Dean’s back arches off the bed and his hips undulate against the air. Castiel hums, his hands curling around Dean’s hips and pulling off his boxers. The shift of fabric against his aching erection makes Dean groan.

“So eager,” Castiel whispers more to himself as he teases Dean, light long fingers running Dean’s stomach. Touching the sticky wet spot that’s pooled underneath the head of his cock.

“Touch me,” Dean pleads, his hands running up Castiel’s strong arms. Tilting his head back to expose his throat, arching into Castiel’s touch. Castiel places kisses all over Dean’s skin, everywhere but the one place he really needs it. Slow open-mouthed kisses and his breath tickles Dean. He sucks bruises into Dean’s hip bones, Dean’s erection brushing up against his jaw. Castiel flicks a tongue over Dean’s weeping head and then swallows him down, making Dean cry out.

Castiel praises Dean. He worships Dean with his lips and hands. Scissoring his fingers deep inside to prepare. In his deep voice, he says things like _beautiful, good boy,_ and reverently, _Dean._ Castiel opens him up so slowly that Dean’s entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat and his muscles are shaking from the exertion of trying to hold off what he knows will be an incredible orgasm. When he finally sinks into Dean, Dean bites his lip hard to prevent himself from crying out in relief.

Dean cards his fingers through Castiel’s sweaty hair, making the man look even more windswept than usual. Castiel’s hands trace down Dean’s arms, tantalizing and teasing touch. With authority and that damn sexy eyebrow raised, Castiel removes Dean’s hands slowly from his hair and places them over his head. A silent command to keep them there has Dean fisting the sheets in obedience. Dean’s mouth opens in a silent ‘o’ of pleasure. The pace of Castiel’s hips is slow and Dean’s skin feels so tight, he feels like he’s going to burst out of it. With his legs wrapped around Castiel’s torso, and his feet hooked together, he undulates against Castiel eliciting soft moans and more praise from the doctor’s lips.

The slap of their flesh coming together echoes in his ears when he feels the telltale tingle of his orgasm washing over him. Dean stutters brokenly that he’s so very close. He’s reduced to soft silent cries of ‘ _fuck,_ _Cas’_ when he comes.

Castiel stops his hips, cognizant of Dean’s oversensitivity, his big warm hands running down Dean’s thighs soothingly. The aftershocks jerk Dean’s limbs, leaving him sighing softly when he stills.

“Keep going,” Dean sighs, petting Cas’ hand anchored on his hip. His fingertips brush the veins and cords of muscles in Castiel’s hand. Cas is just as slow as before, soft touches and whispers of praise. Dean is sensitive, but Castiel feels so good and he loves the full feeling. Being connected to someone is one of his favorite sensations. Castiel comes softly, eyes full of affection and he gathers up Dean, placing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

“Thank you,” Cas eventually sighs against Dean’s temple.

Laughing softly, Dean replies, “You’re welcome, and thank you to you too.”

“I am going to admit rather foolishly that I’ve dreamed of being in your arms for quite some time. Tonight exceeded those dreams,” Castiel admits bashfully.

Dean smiles so wide he feels his cheeks hurt, “Me too.”

Fingers brushing over the slope of Dean’s neck and down his shoulder, Castiel hesitantly meets Dean’s eyes. Beautiful pools of blue diamonds glitter in the low light, filled with warmth and passion. Something new unfurls between them, new and so exciting.

“You think we could become more than this? After tonight?” Castiel asks, licking his lips. Dean tracts the motion, dipping in to taste the lush lips.

“Yes,” Dean replies quickly with a smile, feeling euphoric, “Definitely.” 


End file.
